


I Get It

by fmljustlex



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), Thirteen Reasons Why - Jay Asher
Genre: But not that graphic, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I Blame Tumblr, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Mild Language, Platonic Cuddling, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Violence, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmljustlex/pseuds/fmljustlex
Summary: His vision goes red, and the next thing he knows he's on his feet. His hands find Bryce's collar and drag him up with him, shoving him against the pool house windows.“Jesus, Foley, what the hell is your pr-”“Stay the fuck away from him,” Justin spits at him, shoving him against the wall again.~~~Based on a prompt I saw on tumblr:  'Stay the fuck away from him'. Bryce says some stuff about Alex and Justin is so done with his shit.~~~Second part now added!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Justin x Alex/13 Reasons why fic, and something I imagined could happen if Justin had stayed at Alex's that night and Jessica hadn't called him, mostly because I can't bring myself to believe Justin would have went back to Bryce's after that. Maybe you disagree and think he could have. That works too. There's nothing fixed on that point in the fic, so it's really up to you. Please enjoy this angsty, fluffy Justlex :)

Justin sits quietly in his spot on Bryce's sofa. A half empty bottle is sitting between his legs, held loosely in one hand. Some type of alcohol, he knows, although he can't quite remember which. It's not in the original bottle, just a plastic one; one that can easily be stashed in a school bag, taken out in public and go unacknowledged.

He's barely drank any of it. His mind is blurry enough, his thoughts swirling in a whirlwind and he can tell the alcohol won't quiet it. If anything, getting drunk right now seems almost worse. His mind will trail to things he can't control, things he's not ready to think about. Like why the hell he's still in this house, and why the hell he isn't high.

Like bleach blonde hair and septum piercings, a steak dinner and a bedroom where he felt like he could sleep without losing his mind.

He takes another swig from the bottle in his hand, letting the liquid burn as it slips down his still aching throat. The hood of his letterman jacket tucked up around his neck and the drunkenness level of the other boys have prevented any of them from noticing the bruises; or at least, prevented them from mentioning it.

The absence of the one boy who would probably notice _and_ say something about it both calms and frustrates Justin. He knows he'd rather not talk about it, urges himself to believe he's glad no one else has. 

But another part of his mind is telling him otherwise. If one of them mentioned it, maybe he could think they actually cared.

His eyes trail over to Zach, sprawled on the ground next to one of his basketball teammates. The only person in here he'd still consider his friend enough to hope he'd care. 

But the tall boy has avoided him the entire night. Averting his gaze every time Justin looked at him, not uttering a word to him once since they came in.

Zach hadn't spoken to him much, lately. He certainly no longer responds to his texts.

Justin's eyes burn and he shakes his head, forcing his gaze—and those thoughts—away. A familiar name mentioned next to him drags him back into his surroundings and his ears perk, listening to Monty and Bryce speak next to him. 

“You know what Standall said to me the other day? I'm not ‘man enough’. What the fuck?”

Monty's words are slurred slightly, probably due to the three beers he's consumed in all of the fifteen minutes he's been here; and when Justin thinks, he's sure he can recall a bong being introduced at some point, can recall passing up the offer himself.

Which means he's drunk _and_ high, and probably so is Bryce. And now, they're talking about Alex.

Justin feels himself agreeing with some of Monty’s words because, what the fuck?

Bryce gives a laugh and tips back his own beer, and Justin's hands tighten around the bottle. “How can you not be man enough for fucking Standall? Girliest fucking dude I know.”

And Monty throws his hands up in agreement, voice coming out exasperated. “I know, right? I don't get it.” He pouts, and Justin is certain at that moment. _He's definitely drunk, and I definitely didn't imagine that bong, either._

Justin takes another sip of his drink, expecting that to be the end of the conversation, when Bryce speaks again.

“Hey, if he wants man enough I'll show it to him. I bet Standall gets fucking _loud_.”

Monty just shakes his head and downs the rest of beer, laughing slightly at the words, but Justin feels his blood start to boil.

His vision goes red, and the next thing he knows he's on his feet. His hands find Bryce's collar and drag him up with him, shoving him against the pool house windows.

“Jesus, Foley, what the hell is your pr-”

“Stay the _fuck_ away from him,” Justin spits at him, shoving him against the wall again.

Realization dawns on Bryce's face. Slowly, his lips pull up into a smirk. “Don't worry, Justy. I can share. In fact, you can have him first. Then whenever you're ready I'll show him what a real man is.” He reaches up to grip Justin's shoulder, eyes bright. “What's yours is mine, right?”

That's when Justin snaps.

He swings at Bryce's jaw, satisfied at the slight pain that explodes in his knuckles as his fist makes contact. He finds himself throwing the larger boy to the floor, and lets his fists find purchase again and again, his hands turning red with both the other boys blood and his own.

Arms wrap around his shoulders and he fights against them, still throwing punches before jabbing his elbow into whoever's holding him. Monty’s voice rings in his ear, telling him to calm down and his heart beats faster.

The image of a similar scene flashes through his mind, but it's Monty throwing the punches as a boy bleeds underneath him. A boy with bleached hair whose face grows bruised and bloody under Monty’s hands, while all Justin can do is watch.

_Alex._

He twists around and this time it's Monty he swings at, but the angle makes it awkward, leaving the punch weak as it hits the boy's chin.

It's enough to make him release Justin and stumble back, giving him a worried look as his hand reaches up to touch his face. Justin fumes, his chest heaving and fists clenching at his sides as he whirls back to Bryce. He's managed to drag himself to his feet but Justin moves to descend on him again, until hands land on his shoulders.

“Justin, stop.”

Zach stands in front of him, his eyes understanding but pleading with Justin to calm down. _Ever the peacemaker._

“Why the fuck should I?” He explodes. He flings his arm out, pointing to Bryce as he screams at them. “He deserves everything he gets now. Why the fuck shouldn't I hit him? I should fucking kill you!” 

He directs the last part at Bryce as he lunges for him again. Zach stops him, pulling him back and wrapping his hands around his biceps.

“Let me fucking go, Dempsey! Why the fuck are you still here?”

Zach glares at him. “Me? Why are you?”

Justin's jaw clenches, and he looks him in the eye. “Maybe if you answered my texts, I wouldn't have to be.” He sees Zach falter slightly and he shakes his head, taking a step closer and shoving the taller boy's chest. “Alex is supposed to be _your_ friend.” He shoves him again. “ _You're_ the one who should be hitting that asshole.” And again. _“You should fucking help me, not them!”_

He takes a step back, still breathing heavily. “I get why you wouldn't do it for me. But not Alex. He deserves better than all of this. All of us. Just like Jess.”

He turns away from all of them, walking straight for the door. “All of you just stay the fuck away.”

~^~

He collects his bag from the porch on the way out, and starts walking. He doesn't think about where he's going, doesn't need to; he knows where his feet will carry him. 

It’s late, he knows, and when he reaches the house, all the lights are off. Except for one. 

He sets the strap of his bag firmly over his shoulder as he stands in front of the tree at the side of the house. With the adrenaline still running through him, he starts to climb.

He's three quarters of the way there when the pain in his hands finally registers. His knuckles are raw and open from the fight, and now his palms are scratched and cut. _Fuck Standall and his second storey bedroom._

He makes it to the window and he leans forward on the branch, bracing himself against the ledge. The curtains aren't pulled, and he finds the boy easily. His back is towards him as he sits slouched on his bed, head hung forward.

Justin's heart gives a pained squeeze at the sight, but also lifts slightly, in time with his hand that moves to knock lightly on the window.

The blonde looks over his shoulder, and his eyes catch Justin's. They widen slightly, but other than that, his expression gives away no other thoughts he has at the sight of the brunette hanging outside his window.

He opens the window and Justin slides through, lifting his bag off his shoulder. Alex is wrapped up in his arms before it even hits the floor.

Justin holds the other boy to his chest, dropping his head to his shoulder and pressing his face against his skin before allowing himself to let out a sob.

Alex stands frozen against him, but the gut wrenching sound brings him back to his senses, and his arms immediately come around the crying jock. He wraps an arm around his back, lifting the other to cradle the head still buried in his shoulder.

Justin relaxes, leaning into him and tightening his hold. The tension from before bleeds out of him, along with the adrenaline, leaving him shaking in the smaller boy's arms. Alex doesn't say anything, doesn't ask any questions, just holds him silently and Justin has never been more grateful.

“Bryce is a dick,” he mutters it to the blonde's shoulder, voice muffled against his shirt.

Alex holds him tighter.

“I'm so sorry,” he speaks again after a moment, voice quiet and thick from crying. Alex cards his hands through his hair, shushing him, but he shakes his head vigorously. “Everything's so fucked up, and you shouldn't have to be a part of it. I'm so sorry, Alex.”

“Don't be,” the blonde says softly. “I'm on the tapes. It's my fault I'm a part of this.”

But Justin's shaking his head, hands twisting in the back of the boy's shirt. “You know that's not what I mean.”

There's silence for a second. Then, “I know. Don't be. I get it.”

This time Justin pulls himself away, but he only gets so far with Alex's hand still cradling his head. His own have dropped to his sides, and he looks down at them, brushing his thumb over the dried blood on his busted knuckles. 

“I should've done something,” he whispers. “Anything. I should've done something, I could have stopped it, or-” he chokes, feels more tears streaming down his face. Alex brushes them away softly. “It's my fault. I didn't do anything. I didn't stop it.”

He looks back up again, expecting to find disgust and anger in Alex's eyes, but the younger boy just nods. “I know.” His hand trails down Justin's face until his fingertips rest lightly on his neck. His eyes follow, and his gaze hardens slightly. Then he murmurs again, softly, “I get it.”

His eyes fall to the jock's hands and he lifts them in his own, examining them. “What happened?”

The memory of not even an hour ago rushes back into Justin’s mind and he has to resist the urge to wrap Alex back up in his arms—to remind himself _Alex is here, he's safe, he's fine_. To tell himself it'll stay that way, that he won't let Alex get hurt. He won't let him down, not like he let down the others. Not like Jessica, or Hannah.

Instead, he shrugs. “Bryce is a dick,” he repeats his earlier words.

Alex raises a brow at him. “Well, yeah.”

He knows the younger boy's waiting for more of the story. Waiting for an explanation as to why Bryce being a dick this time led to his blood and tears. 

He can't bring himself to give one.

Alex starts to walk away after a quiet ‘wait here’, and he grabs onto his wrist. Blue eyes look back at him, and a soft hand comes to rest over his. “I'm just getting stuff for your hands. I'll be right back.”

He pauses for a moment, then nods, peeling his fingers away from the boy’s wrist. Alex slips out the door quietly as the brunette seats himself on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the covers. He lets himself sink into the mattress, his muscles going lax with relief at just being back in this room.

Alex is back in only a minute, a white first aid box in his hand. He sets it down on the bed next to Justin, opening it and picking out a few objects. Justin can't help but roll his eyes, because _of course_ Alex has a fucking first aid box in his bathroom, and _of course_ he's going to sit here and bandage up Justin's busted knuckles. 

Of course Alex is going to take care of _him_ , even after him coming here planning for it to be the other way around.

He's so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn't realise Alex has started cleaning his cuts until he feels the sting of rubbing alcohol, and he flinches.

“Sorry,” Alex says immediately, voice still soft. But he's smiling slightly, gaze fixated on his task of wiping every inch of Justin's hands. 

The brunette scoffs, kicking his ankle slightly with the toe of his shoe. “Yeah, you sure sound it, Standall.”

Alex's eyes flick up to him and away again, smile widening slightly. “What were you thinking about?” He asks quietly.

Justin allows himself to stare at him, then. He's still standing, crouched down in front of him, turning his hands over carefully in one of his, holding the cotton wipe in the other. His stance gives Justin a clear view of his side profile. The way his hair stands up on his head, the bleached colour almost white, a few strands curled over his forehead. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration over his blue eyes. Down over the curve of his nose, to his soft lips, still curled up at the corners. Just then, he bites the bottom one, tugging it gently between his teeth, and Justin tears his gaze away.

He clears his throat, looking to the side before looking at him again, to find Alex now staring back at him. 

He realises he didn't answer the question, then thinks about how long he was just looking at Alex, and considers that maybe he did. He pushes the thought away and ignores the strange feeling in his stomach when he notices Alex is still watching him, deciding to turn the questions to the blonde.

“Why were you still awake?”

Alex rose a dark brow at him. “Shouldn't you just be glad I was?”

He's joking, Justin knows, just trying to avoid the question. Still, his gaze softens again. “I am.”

The younger boy looks at him for another moment, then his eyes are gone, focused on the bandage he's started to unroll. He reaches to lift the athlete's hand again, and gently starts to wrap the bandage around it. Justin watches in slight awe as the blonde folds the bandage perfectly, wrapping and twisting it across his knuckles before taping it in place. (He tries to ignore the fact Alex decided to tear the tape with his teeth. And the fact that he watched in slightly more awe as he did.)

Alex repeats the actions for his other hand and Justin lets himself think of the event that led him here. The fear and anger that consumed him at the thought of Bryce anywhere near Alex was enough to make him sick to his stomach, and he had never been so glad to have the boy close.

Then, the only thing he wants is to have him closer. 

So when Alex drops his hand then proceeds to drop the tape back into the box, Justin sets his hands on his thin waist.

He planned to wrap them around him, to pull him back into a hug but he wasn't sure that's what Alex wanted, wasn't sure he was welcome too. But the blue eyed boy seems to get the message, and he droops his arms around the brunettes shoulder.

Justin wraps his arms around his waist fully then, pressing his face into his stomach. He lets out a sigh when the younger boy starts to comb his hand through his hair, hugging him closer until he's stood between his thighs.

“You don't have to go back,” Alex says, quietly, almost wary, wondering what effect the words will have.

Justin holds him tighter, his voice coming out at a whisper. “I don't have anywhere else to go.”

“Here,” Alex argues, immediately. “Stay here.”

He feels Justin's shoulders tense. “Your dad-”

“Loves you,” Alex cuts him off. “Or, he doesn't have to know.”

A thrill runs through Justin at the thought. At the fact Alex thought it. That Alex would do that, for him. He grins slightly, but then forces the feelings down, shaking his head. “He'd find out. Hate to break it to you, Standall, but he's a cop—and as great as I am, I can't turn invisible.”

Alex scoffs, flicking the side of his head. “Are you actually _trying_ to make me change my mind?”

Justin wants to look up at him, but he really doesn't want to let him go until Alex does—and for the moment, the other boy seems just as content right where he is. So he tilts his head back with his arms still wrapped around his hips, and presses his chin against the blonde's stomach.

“No,” he tells him seriously, although he thinks Alex is a little amused at his new position, “I'd really like to stay here. Thank you.”

Alex nods, his cheeks flushing lightly. He brushes his hands through Justin's hair again, watches as the senior closes his eyes and leans into the touch, and feels himself flush more. He pulls away, saying, “You can just sleep on the bed. I don't have any blankets in here, and I don't wanna risk making anymore noise.”

Justin scratches the back of his neck, and mutters his agreement. Alex turns the lights out, and he hopes that's enough to hide the flush that's started to creep into his own cheeks.

He can only make out the other's outline now, but he can tell he's taking off his jeans before he slips under the covers. He mimics the action, kicking out of his own jeans and shrugging off his jacket, deciding to keep his own shirt as well.

He slides in on the other side, curling up under the warmth of the blankets. He can't help but smirk as he head sinks into the pillow. 

“What, no more cuddles, Standall?”

He just catches the roll of shining blue eyes and the hint of a smile before the other boy rolls away from him, facing the wall with a muttered, “Night, Justin.”

His smirk slips into a grin, and he stays where he is, facing the boy's back.

“Goodnight, Alex.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!
> 
> The first part got a really good response, and I really just couldn't resist. I hope you enjoy this part just as much :)

The first thing Justin notices is the warmth. It's a solid feeling along his front and he presses closer to it, and he thinks this is the most relaxed he's ever been waking up. The building fear he'd feel waking up in his own bed is absent, as is the uneasy, angry feeling caused by waking at Bryce's.

The presence of neither of those things is what makes Justin confused. He feels content, warm, safe. It could only be one place.

Now, the only thing to wonder about is the solid form pressed to his chest.

He blinks his eyes open to a face full of blonde hair and stiffens. He's curled up against Alex's back, arm wrapped over his thin waist.

His immediate urge is to tighten that grip, to pull Alex back as close as he can, into his chest. He wants to wrap both arms around him and hold on.

But maybe Alex doesn't.

He probably doesn't. Why would he? He could do a lot better than Justin. He probably isn't even into guys. Justin isn't into guys. Is he?

He lets himself focus on Alex's warm body against his own and curses internally.

He is. Most definitely is into guys, or at least, this one in particular. He really doesn't know how he's only figuring it out now. If anything, it should have been quite obvious from his little confrontation yesterday. He'd been ready to rip Bryce's head off his shoulders if he so much as uttered another word about Alex.

It only sinks in now that he probably wouldn't have been so strongly willing to do that if he didn't feel strongly about the matter. Subject. Person.

Justin pulls a face at himself. Honestly. This is just typical.

No. He won't let his emotions take over. Getting close to him wouldn't be good for Alex, it never is for anyone. He'd stay close enough to protect him, but far enough away that he wouldn't hurt him.

He slowly lifts his arm from Alex's waist and rolls away, doing his best not to jostle the boy or make too much noise. He rests on his back, head still turned so he can see Alex. A part of him feels like he should roll on over, out of the bed, and leave, or at the very least lay on the floor until the other wakes up.

But he's supposed to be here, Alex told him to sleep here, he knows he is, is expecting to wake up next to Justin. He lets that thought comfort him and sinks into the mattress, letting himself relax under the warmth of the covers.

The light coming through the window is still soft, low. Early morning light.

The boy next to him shifts slightly, and Justin’s alerted to it by the rustle of the sheets. Alex turns, and before Justin realises it, there's a head pillowed on his chest and an arm wrapped snugly around his waist.

Justin stiffens. Soft strands of Alex's blonde hair tickle his chin and his hand is warm and solid against his side and Justin's pulse is starting to race much too quickly under his skin.

He'd wrapped his arms around him so easily last night. Pulled him into a hug and cried on his shoulder. Sure, the touch had still affected him. It couldn't not, it was still Alex. But after his earlier realisation, it seems he's become suddenly hyper aware of Alex's touch. He also very much seems to like it.

He really should move away, he tells himself. Should extricate himself from Alex's grip and leave the way he came.

He just, really doesn't want to.

You aren't the one who initiated it this time, the part of his brain eager for him to stay right where he is with Alex reminds him. He's the one who rolled over and started cuddling you. Plus, if you move now there's a lot more chance you'll wake him. Trust me. It's less awkward if you just let it be.

Justin wholeheartedly agrees with the idea.

He lets his bones go lax again, and slowly wraps his arm around Alex's back, holding him against him. He revels in the warmth the contact provides and tugs the duvet over them properly, up to Alex's shoulder. Alex seems to appreciate the gesture, pressing his face into Justin's chest, going boneless in his hold.

Tufts of bleached hair are still tickling his neck, and he resists the urge to brush them down and kiss the top of his head. Instead, his fingers end up tracing idle patterns on the boy’s back, touch so featherlight he doubts Alex can even feel it through his shirt.

That turns out to be a wrong assumption, and either Justin's touch was a little heavier than he thought or Alex is just super sensitive to it.

Either way, the blonde gives a sleepy little huff and moves under Justin's hand for a moment before he slowly blinks his eyes open.

He squints up at Justin through tired eyes for a moment before they slide shut again and a small smile curves the corners of his mouth. He mumbles a muffled, “Hi,” against Justin's chest and curls closer, hand closing tighter over Justin's side.

A slow grin works it's way across Justin's lips. “Hey,” he gets out softly, listening as Alex's breath changes, being dragged from the peacefulness of sleep before now settling back into a relaxed rhythm, though this time one of wakefulness.

Awake, but apparently still much too tired to move even off Justin's chest. Not that he minds in the slightest, of course.

He lifts a hand to card through Alex's soft hair as he waits for him to wake up at his own pace. He does so slowly, leaning into Justin's touch and tilting his head up, eventually opening his eyes fully to look at him.

Justin smirks slightly when he does, raising a teasing brow, though he's sure the soft look in his eyes gives him away. “Comfy?”

Alex hums. “Very.” He accentuates his reply with a squeeze to Justin's side, propping his chin up on his chest.

The gesture does nothing to slow down the fluttering of Justin's pulse, which he's sure Alex can actually hear at this point. He can probably even feel his heart trying to beat it's way out of his chest where he's leaning on it. Probably knows exactly what he's doing to him.

If he does, he gives no indication of it. He looks up at Justin silently, fingers absently tapping a rhythm against his stomach.

“How long have I been lying on you?” Alex asks suddenly.

Justin blinks at him, then shrugs slightly, tugging on his blonde hair. “Not long.” Alex hums and Justin pulls on his locks again. “You planning on getting your fat ass off me anytime soon?”

The way his arms tighten around the blonde as he says it is proof he doesn't actually want that to happen in the slightest. So when Alex does just that and pulls himself out of Justin's hold to lie back on the pillow next to his, he's more than a little disappointed.

It's shown in the way his expression drops and he barely stops himself from reaching out to pull Alex back against him. He does, however, let loose a soft whine of protest and has to resist the urge to slap his hand over his mouth.

“I was kidding,” he informs Alex. “Especially about your ass, I mean, it isn't fat at all, none of you is, like seriously what do you eat? Definitely not fat, not that I pay attention to your ass or anything just, a general observation.”

He trails off slowly, desperately wanting to hide under the covers more and more with each idiotic word that falls from his mouth.

Should’ve just slapped your hand over your mouth. It would've been less embarrassing than this.

Alex stares at him for a moment. “I think the more you explained the worse it got.”

He's grinning, though, eyes shining, and Justin thinks the embarrassment was worth it. He doesn't want Alex to know that, though, so he scowls, kicking him lightly under the covers.

The grin slowly slides off his face though, replaced with a more serious look, but still underlain with something soft. “I let it go the past two nights, now. You have to explain something eventually.”

Justin's lips tug into a frown. “No, I don't,” he grumbles, twisting onto his side, looking away from Alex and smushing the side of his face into the pillow.

There's silence for a moment, before Justin feels the mattress dip as Alex shifts closer. Thin arms wrap around his waist and a chin presses into his shoulder, a cheek resting against his.

“Okay,” Alex relents. “You don't have to. But I want you to know you can, if you want to.”

Justin lies there a while longer, quietly, debating, before he lets out a groan. “Fuck you, Standall.” He rolls himself over again and Alex pulls back just in time to avoid Justin's head knocking into his. “Fine. What do you wanna know?”

Alex shrugs slightly, awkwardly from the position he's lying in. “Whatever you wanna tell me.”

They lie silently for a moment. Justin wants to tell him anything he wants to know, wants to explain why he's here, why he's the way he is, but he doesn't know where to start. He voices this, just the last part, and Alex takes his hand, running his thumb over the bandaged knuckles.

“Start wherever your story does.”

Justin watches him, allows himself to take another minute and just feel the pressure of the touch on his hand. Barely there, just enough to be felt. How does his story start, how does he end up here? How does he rationalise what he's done? It shouldn't matter, he shouldn't be allowed to, but he tries anyway.

“I don't remember my dad,” he just says, eventually. “He left when I was little. I've never really cared, I guess, but it messed up my mom pretty bad.”

He twists his hand around in Alex’s, pressing their palms together and wrapping his fingers around the blonde’s. “She started drinking, and smoking, doing drugs. She didn't have the money for it, though, she didn't even have a job. So she started dating whatever guys she could find, ones that would buy her her beer and her weed and whatever the fuck else she wanted to get drunk or high on.”

Alex is looking at him, he knows. Eyes trained on his face as he speaks. Justin can't bring himself to look back; he keeps his eyes fixed on their hands, keeps running his thumb over Alex's fingers, notices how Alex's pale skin isn't a much different colour to the bandage it's so white.

“Occasionally they're alright, y'know? None of them are ever really good, but they're just there, and it's easy to deal with. Then others, they're just. They're assholes.”

He pauses, then. He doesn't elaborate, can't, thinks he doesn't have to. Alex is smart; Justin doesn't have to give him the details, what he's said already is enough for him to figure it out. To understand.

Light fingers settle against his neck.

He flinches instinctively at the touch and Alex quickly pulls his hand away. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

But Justin instantly misses the touch, annoyed at himself for the unconscious reaction. He shakes his head, squeezing the hand that never left his hold. “No, I-I’m sorry.”

Alex shakes his head gently. “Don't be.” He reaches out again, slowly, hand floating near Justin's shoulder. Giving him time to pull away, to say no, to reject the touch. He doesn't. Alex's fingertips are featherlight against his neck, tracing the skin, the bruises. So different to the hand that left them there; so much softer, gentler.

He savours the feeling and the emotions it causes, the feeling of safety that curls around his heart at just a brush of Alex's hand.

His eyes slide shut as Alex’s thumb skims the underside of his jaw. It brushes a trail down his neck and back up, over and over, Alex's hand now cupping his neck fully. “He did this to you? Your mom’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” Justin's surprised at the way it comes out, the hoarseness of his voice. He clears his throat. “Seth. Bryce and I used to call him Meth Seth.”

Alex snorts, and Justin opens his eyes to look at him, expecting that half amused smile. But the blonde's expression is still serious, eyebrows pinched together. Justin resists the urge to reach up and smooth the crease.

“When did he do this?” he asks, quietly.

Justin keeps his eyes on Alex's face easily with the blonde's still fixed on his neck. It's oddly calming. “Yesterday. It's why I went there. I couldn't stay home.”

Alex looks up at him, then. “You could've come here.”

And, well, Justin doesn't really know what to say that. He did come here, eventually. When the thought of Alex hurt had become a living thing in his mind, and he needed to reassure himself it wasn't reality. To see him here, in one piece, and wrap his arms around him, hold him tight and safe and alive.

“I couldn't, though,” he just says.

He watches as Alex's eyebrows pull together, sees a mixture of confusion and annoyance take over his expression; confusion at his words, annoyance at—well, he doesn't know. Considering it's one of the things he was desperately trying to avoid, he just hopes it isn't at him.

“You didn't have a problem with it the night before,” Alex says, softly.

Justin swallows, shaking his head again, unconsciously leaning towards Alex, into the touch still light on his neck. “That was different, though.”

Alex raises a brow, silently asking him to continue.

“I was desperate then. I just, I was tired. Jessica wouldn't talk to me and Zach wouldn't reply to my texts and the thought of staying at Bryce's, it was just… I couldn't. You were the only one I thought might even consider letting me in, the only one I wanted to.”

Justin didn't mean to make such a confession. He only meant to explain shortly, but now that the subject had been broached, it seemed his mouth was going to say what it wanted. What it hadn't got to, before, when the person he might've started telling it too didn't actually care.

He worries it's too much, though, more than he should've admitted. But Alex just looks at him curiously, tightening his hand around Justin's, and it eases the fear. “What changed?”

The jock looks away at this, back down, eyes falling somewhere around Alex's chest. “You would've said something. You would've asked and I would've wanted to tell you. You would let me stay again, and give me food, and I'd actually get to sleep, and I shouldn't, because I'm an asshole and you shouldn't care about me.”

“I mean,” he continues, “you took me to Bryce's. You watched me tell Jessica, watched me fuck everything up and still brought me back here. You didn't say anything when I cried, you just, set up a bed on the floor and stayed awake until I fell asleep—and I know you did, because I listened—and made me breakfast the next day. Who the fuck does that, Standall?”

He looks up again in time to see Alex smile slightly, lips just quirking at the corners. “Me, obviously.”

Justin huffs a breath out through his nose, the weakest attempt at a laugh. “I'm trying to be serious here. I was fucked up after all of it, more than usual, and you didn't need my pathetic ass taking up space here again.”

Alex stares at him. “I think that's the dumbest thing you've said.”

The jock snorts at that. “I dunno, I've said some pretty dumb things.”

“True,” Alex hums in agreement. “But that's the dumbest. I mean, seriously? If I didn't want to let you stay, I wouldn't have. Didn't you just describe exactly what happened anyway?”

Justin's face falls. “I'm sorry.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m glad you came here. I'm not exactly happy about why, but I'm glad you're here.”

The urge to pull the younger boy into his arms grips Justin, and this time it's too strong to resist. He untangles his fingers from Alex's, slightly pleased at the way his expression drops momentarily because of it, before sliding his arms around the blonde's waist.

He tugs slightly and Alex comes easily, settling against Justin's chest and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Alex pulls him into him and Justin gratefully buries his head in his chest, pressing close.

Alex curls around him and Justin burrows as close as he can. He shouldn't be doing this, tells himself over and over to let go and move away, to stop letting himself have this, feel like this. He doesn't know why this boy has been so kind to him, how he's gained the other, but he's too scared to ask in fear of losing it.

Instead, he says, “I punched Bryce.”

The light movement of fingers against his back stops briefly as Alex takes in the abrupt statement, before resuming his stroking. “Good.”

Justin can't help a little laugh from bubbling past his lips. He holds Alex a little tighter. “Is that all? I mean, I agree, but I was waiting for the ‘why’.”

“Do you really need a reason to punch Bryce?” Alex asks, seemingly with genuine curiosity. “You had one, though. Something happened when you were there yesterday, and it's why you came here.”

The brunette nods. Doesn't say anything.

“Did he do something? Say something?” Alex guesses. “About, before? About Jessica?”

This time Justin shakes his head. “He did say something. Not about Jessica.”

“What about then?”

“You.”

He can't see the boy's reaction, but he can imagine it, imagine they way his lips part and he blinks, his brows pull together. “Me?”

Justin pulls back and looks up at him, finding his assumptions to be completely correct. He reaches up, smoothes the crease of Alex's brow with his thumb while he nods.

“Why does it matter what he says about me? It probably isn't anything worse than he's said before.”

He says it matter-of-factly, and Justin scowls, winding his arms back around him. “If you're trying to make me less pissed, that isn't working, Alex.”

Alex ducks his head, fingers twisting anxiously behind Justin's neck. “I'm just saying if you were gonna hit him for anything you should've at least done it for something that mattered.”

“What?” Justin stares at him. “Alex. That's the dumbest thing you've ever said.”

The blonde's gaze flits back up to him.

Justin smiles slightly. “Seriously? What's a better reason to hit that asshole than him threatening to put his disgusting hands anywhere near you?”

Alex watches him in what seems to be mild awe. “I didn't realise you actually cared that much.”

“I'm not sure there's much I care about more,” Justin admits quietly. “They were just– Monty was complaining, but he was mostly joking around; said something about you saying he wasn't man enough. Then Bryce… He was being a dick. Said he'd ‘show you man enough’.”

He feels Alex squirm slightly and tightens his grip on the smaller boy, feeling the wave of anger and protectiveness flow through him again after it had dissipated slightly during the night.

“It just, it made me think of Jess and Hannah. How I couldn't protect them—how I didn't try hard enough. The thought of him hurting you,” Justin trails off. “I lost it. Then Monty tried to stop me, and all I could think about was him hitting you, so I just. Repaid the favour.”

Alex's eyes widen. “You hit Montgomery too?”

“I barely grazed him, he's fine,” Justin brushes it off. “He should've got a lot worse for what he did to you. I could've stepped in there, too, and I didn't. I'm sorry.”

But Alex is already shaking his head. “I started it,” he shrugs. “You were better friends with Monty than me. It wasn't your fault I was being an idiot.”

“It is though,” Justin stresses.

Alex gives him a questioning look and he continues, “You were acting out because of the tapes. You wanted someone to pay, and all the rest of us were doing was arguing with you. You wanted to make yourself pay when you weren't the one who deserves to.”

I am, Justin thinks. They should've been the ones hitting me.

“I'm on the tapes too,” Alex reminds him, sounding indignant. “I fucked up and I deserve to face the consequences as much as the rest of you.”

“No,” Justin denies bluntly, “you don't.”

Alex looks like he's about to argue, so Justin speaks again before he can. “You did something stupid, yeah. But it's different to the rest of us. I mean, you really think that dumb list is as bad as what Bryce did? As bad as what I did? Don't you think the fact that I'm the only person on there twice is enough to prove that that's complete bullshit?”

His voice cracks slightly. Alex stares at him for a moment before he suddenly moves closer. He wraps his arms tight around Justin's shoulders and presses his face into his shoulder.

Justin clings to him in return as he feels tears prick at his eyes. “I couldn't stop it,” he croaks. “I was scared of losing Bryce's friendship. There wasn't many people that cared about me enough to take me in the way he did, and I didn't know what to do without that. I lost the best thing I had. I wasted my entire relationship with Jess only to lose it at Bryce anyway. I fucked up everything.”

Alex's hand is in his hair, fingers massaging his scalp soothingly. Justin presses his cheek against his temple and breathes, salty wetness streaking down his face freely when Alex presses his lips lightly to the crook of his shoulder.

“Not everything,” he murmurs, lips brushing Justin's skin. “I'm still here.”

Justin lets out a shaky breath at that and holds tighter still. It makes it easier, with Alex's arms around him and his own around Alex, the rise and fall of this boy's chest against his, the feeling of his heart beating with his own.

Alex pulls back, but only enough to lift his head and look at him, no further distance created between the rest of their bodies. With their legs tangled and chests not even an inch apart. He brushes the tears from the senior's cheeks as Justin watches him, breath steadying finally, heart racing now for a different reason, one much lighter than the crushing sadness.

He stares until those blue eyes look back at him, the ones that have always seemed just that bit brighter than his own. Then he leans forward, and presses his lips to Alex's own.

He does no more than that, heart thumping wildly in his chest, until Alex responds and suddenly all the darkness in his thoughts slips away. Alex's mouth is soft under his, kissing him slowly, carefully.

Justin slips his hand up into his bleached hair and runs his tongue over the seam of his lips tentatively. He wants more, his whole being aching for it desperately, but something still making it too scary for him to just take.

But Alex's lips part easily, and he presses closer, his own hands grasping at Justin's neck. Justin's fingers are threaded in his hair, his other hand holding him close, pressed flat against the small of the back. With Alex in his arms like this, kissing him like this, Justin can't remember how it would feel to not want it.

Justin can't tell which one of them it is that pulls away, but he only realises how much he was struggling for breath once they do. Alex's eyes burn into his own, breathing just as heavy.

“I didn't know you were into guys,” is the first thing he says. Honest. Breathless.

The laugh that escapes Justin's lips is surprised, but easy, the terrified thumping of his heart now a happy flutter as Alex smiles and scratches his nails lightly over the hair at Justin's nape. “I didn't know you were.”

Alex rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn't falter. “Yeah right.”

“I'm serious,” Justin laughs again. “I was completely prepared for rejection.”

Alex's brows raise and his smile slips into more of a smirk, tone teasing as he asks, “Justin Foley prepared for rejection? Must be one hell of a guy.”

Justin grins, pulls him in until their noses brush, breath puffing against Alex's lips when he speaks. “The perfect guy.”

“In comparison to pretty low standards,” Alex says flatly.

Justin pokes him in the side.

Alex huffs a breath but smiles again. “Really though. Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to,” Justin responds easily. “I really wanted to. I really like you, Standall.”

He accentuates the statement with a nudge of his nose against Alex's. He understands the worry, notices the part of himself that wonders if this is real, or if it's just the feeling he craves, rather than Alex himself.

Then Alex gives him that little smile, and murmurs a quiet, “I like you too. Even if you are an asshole.”

That part of him that doubted dies completely at that smile, and there is no way that it isn't real. It is very much, wholeheartedly Alex that is causing this feeling stirring inside him.

He leans in to kiss him again, and everything that didn't make sense yesterday, all those feelings and urges he didn't understand, now… well, he thinks he gets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to make them kiss...but then I did.
> 
> I love comments! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are awesome but not as good as comments! Please tell me if you liked this and would wanna see other fics for these two :)


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